


That Which We Call A Rose

by RoseSakura



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys Kissing, Caspar being hella loud, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Linhardt being a sleepy boy, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Minor Injuries, Nightmares, Post-Time Skip, Pre-Time Skip, Rated T for blood mention, Serious Injuries, Sleepy Cuddles, Thunderstorms, it's just six stories of Linhardt waking up and then going back to sleep lol, this is just Caspar forcing Linhardt to be conscious like that's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 01:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21235949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseSakura/pseuds/RoseSakura
Summary: "What's in a name? That which we call a roseBy any other name would smell as sweet;"----Or: Five times Caspar woke Linhardt up and one time he couldn't





	That Which We Call A Rose

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hi
> 
> I couldn't get this Caspar/Linhardt idea out of my head so I wrote it also I cannot write short stories so it's a bit longer than I'd like for a 5+1 things but lol oops
> 
> This can probably be read as being any route. Pt 1. is pre-time skip and pt. +1 is post-time skip but the other parts are kind of up to your preference lol
> 
> Thanks for reading~

1.

“Psst! Linhardt.”

He startled awake even though the call of his name wasn’t very loud. The whisper was sharp and close to his ear, breath blowing over his skin and raising goosebumps on his arms. He kept his eyes closed, trying to block out the droning sound and fall back into unconsciousness.

“Linhardt, wake up,” Caspar repeated, resting a hand on his knee and shaking. “The lecture isn’t over yet.”

Linhardt blinked sleepily, feeling like his eyes were weighed down and lead had seeped into his limbs. Ah, so that droning sound was his professor speaking. 

“Come on, this is important,” Caspar continued to mumble as he kept prodding Linhardt, making it impossible for him to fall back asleep. “It’s healing magic, we aren’t even learning about anything violent.”

Tilting his head, Linhardt dragged his eyes up to look at his friend, surprised Caspar was even bothering to listen. He frequently complained about how boring learning magic was. Too much reading involved and not enough action, or something like that.

Even now, he couldn’t seem to stay still. Linhardt couldn’t help but notice that his fingers, which still rested on his knee, continued to twitch and drum. The violent shake of Caspar’s leg was enough to jolt the table every time he bumped against it. Linhardt was feeling sleepy again just watching him. Imagine exerting that much energy when one was sitting down… 

His gaze slid over to the open tome in front of Caspar, the stark, white pages standing out against the dark walnut of the desk. A quick glance at the few words scribbled on top of the page told him that Caspar had stopped listening to their professor a while ago. He held back his groan. That meant he was going to have the exhausting task of teaching Caspar the content. 

“Caspar.” The professor’s voice cut through his internal lament. He kept his head turned to the side so he could watch Caspar without being caught. His fingers stopped their movement on his knee and he pulled away entirely, taking the warmth of his hand with him. “Please refrain from talking during my lesson.”

Linhardt sighed and prepared himself to sit up and explain that it was his fault Caspar was speaking in the first place but he was stopped by Caspar’s voice. 

“Sorry, professor. It won’t happen again.”

Frowning, Linhardt glanced back over at Caspar in time to see his eyes drop to the table, embarrassment clearly written on his face at being called out in front of the class. Ferdinand had turned around to spare him an annoyed glance and even Linhardt could feel the weight of the combined stares of Edelgard and Hubert from across the room. 

He wanted to ask why Caspar didn’t blame him, explain he was simply waking Linhardt up, but he didn’t want to risk getting called out again.

Linhardt dragged himself to his feet once they were dismissed, sliding his book into his bag and heaving it onto his shoulder. It was amazing how exhausting it was to sit and listen to someone else talking. 

But now he was finally free from the confines of the lecture hall, looking forward to a relaxing night in the library. He could almost feel the pages in his hands already, hear the scratching of Lysithea’s quill as she works in the corner opposite of him, secretly competing for whose study session would outlast whose.

Chairs grinding against the stone floor and the voices of his classmates filled his ears, bits of conversation forcing their way into his head as everyone left the classroom. Although, nothing was as loud as Caspar’s exclamation of “Man, I’m starving!”

“Then might I suggest you head over to the dining hall.” Linhardt sighed, adjusting his bag.

Caspar shrugged as he gathered up his own book. “It’s hard work just sitting there,” he said with a grin. “Makes me hungry.”

“Makes me tired,” Linhardt said, trying and failing to stop his oncoming yawn.

Caspar laughed, the sound loud and carefree. “You’re always tired.”

“And you’re always hungry.” 

“Yeah.” Caspar agreed easily, never one to feel shame towards the bottomless pit he called a stomach. “But you just woke up from sleeping! How can you still be so tired?”

“You ate before the class,” Linhardt sighed. “Which was, what? Just three hours ago?”

“Three hours ago and a few minutes ago isn’t the same--”

“Caspar.” Edelgard’s clear voice stopped them on their way out the door, interrupting Caspar’s rant. “May I speak with you for a moment?” 

Caspar’s entire demeanour changed as he turned to look at Edelgard and, by extension, Hubert, because he was never farther than five steps away from their house leader at all times. The carefree energy seemed to drain out of him, leaving him with a fake confidence that left a bad taste in Linhardt’s mouth as he watched the exchange with a raised brow.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” He glanced over at Linhardt and gave him a weak wave. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

He heard the dismissal easily and felt no real desire to wait around so he shrugged and left the classroom. But as he crossed the lawn, he found himself hesitating. For some reason, Caspar’s defeated expression was permanently fixed in his mind and it was stopping his feet from taking him too far from the classroom. 

Caspar was upset -- that much was obvious. And as much he tried to pretend he didn’t, Linhardt cared for Caspar, more than he was currently ready to admit, and seeing him so upset caused an uncomfortable feeling to swirl in his stomach.

He sighed and headed towards one of the benches on the lawn. It was hard and stiff and the back was not high enough but he figured he could take a quick nap here while he waited for Edelgard to finish making Caspar feel bad.

Edelgard and Hubert finally left the room but Caspar didn’t emerge for another few minutes, eyes cast down as he watched his feet. He was so busy looking down, he blew right past Linhardt, not giving any acknowledgment that he noticed him waiting. 

“Caspar,” Linhardt called out, causing his friend to jump. 

“Hey,” he greeted, his upset expression morphing into confusion. “I thought you were heading to the library?”

“You should just ignore whatever Edelgard said to you.”

Caspar blinked before stammering out an elegantly worded “What?”

Linhardt lolled his head towards the classroom. “I know she was probably getting mad at you, and I’m telling you to ignore it.”

“I don’t know,” he responded, lowering his gaze to his feet. “I mean, I probably could stand to pay attention more in lessons, and I was being distracting today.”

Linhardt narrowed his eyes. “You were just waking me up to make sure I don’t fail. I don’t see how that can be considered disruptive.”

“Hubert said--” 

“Hubert,” Linhardt scoffed. “As if he isn’t distracting, constantly mumbling his own plans or ideas about how lessons should go.”

“He does that?” Caspar asked.

Linhardt rolled his eyes. “Yes. How can you not hear it? It’s exhausting to listen to.”

“What the hell!” Caspar laughed and the sound lifted the uncomfortable weight that had settled on Linhardt’s chest. “What right does he have to lecture me?”

“That’s what I just said.”

“Will you come to the training grounds with me?” Caspar asked abruptly, switching the direction of the conversation.

“The training grounds?” Linhardt whined. “I thought you said you were hungry?”

“I was but now I’m restless and wanna work out!”

“Why do I have to come?” Linhardt complained even as he let Caspar grip his wrist and pull him in the direction of the training grounds.

“It’s your punishment for not paying attention to the lesson!” Caspar glanced back to grin at him. When he continued to complain, he was met with a sigh. “Here, how about this? If you come train with me for a bit, I won’t make you reteach the lesson that I wasn’t paying attention to?”

The offer was ridiculous because Linhardt knew he would end up teaching Caspar anyways but he agreed, pretending it was a legitimate offer. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to threaten the happy smile on Caspar’s face as he excitedly pulled him down the hallway.

2.

“L-Linhardt?”

He probably should have been more alarmed that someone had crept into his room so late at night but the voice was so familiar that it wasn’t a cause for such panic.

“Didn’t I lock my door?” he grumbled, pulling the sheet up further over the bottom half of his face to protect himself from the draft.

“Oh, uhh, yeah. I had Petra help me pick the lock.”

_Assassins,_ Linhardt thought savagely. _So entitled, thinking they can just break into people’s rooms..._

“I’m sorry,” Caspar blurted out, as Linhardt was busy cursing the professor, who had given Petra the idea to become an assassin to offer him a response. “I guess that was pretty rude of me, now that I think about it.”

_Now that you think about it?_

“I, uhh. I can just… go. S-sorry to bother you.”

The tentative tone caught Linhardt’s attention as he finally woke up enough to pay closer attention. The cadence of Caspar’s voice didn’t match his usual embarrassed tone and that piqued Linhardt’s interest enough to ask “Why are you here?” 

His question was promptly answered by the rolling thunder that rumbled through the sky. Caspar’s whine was audible from across the room but he stammered out a shaky explanation. “I -- um. I n-needed to talk to you…”

Linhardt was glad the candlelight in his room was still low, mostly for Caspar’s sake, as the darkness hid any indication of his embarrassment. 

“Well, what is it?” he asked, pulling himself up into a seated position to indicate he was listening.

Even from a distance and in the dark, Linhardt could make out the tense form of his friend lurking in front of his doorway. Lightning flashed through his window, illuminating the curled fists and wide eyes that were fixed outside. 

“Wh-what?” Caspar asked, snapping his gaze over to meet Linhardt’s.

“You wanted to talk to me so desperately that it couldn’t wait until morning, yes?” Linhardt pressed with an amused tilt of his lips. Caspar had a habit of denying his fear of thunderstorms. They had known each other since they were children but Caspar continued to pretend that he was unbothered the loud sound and flashing light. 

“Oh, yeah. I was just wondering if we… uhh. If we had class tomorrow?”

_Was he joking?_ Linhardt expected better.

“...Tomorrow is Saturday.” 

The comment seemed to hang in the air, heavy with such obviousness that Caspar should have been aware of. Another crash of thunder rumbled across the sky and Caspar stumbled backwards in fright, bumping against the bookshelf near the door. It hit against his desk, dangerously shaking the candle resting there. “O-oh! Yeah, right! Of course! W-well, thanks so much for the help, Lin. I’ll just let you sleep now, so --”

“Come over here.”

“What?”

Linhardt rolled his eyes, hopefully obviously enough that Caspar could see it, even through the darkness. “Come over here,” he repeated. “Preferably before you burn my room down.”

Caspar took a hesitant step forward, far too slow for Linhardt’s liking, and he flopped back down onto his bed as he waited, curling back under his covers. Caspar came to the bedside and shuffled his feet awkwardly.

Caspar’s fear of thunderstorms was one of the most frustrating things Linhardt had come to face. It was ridiculous; the weather was one of the few things in this world that actually didn’t intend to harm them. Something as simple as a storm shouldn’t be the thing that dampens his ever brightening spirit. Irrational fear was a waste of energy.

He reached to his right and pulled the blankets aside, exposing the sheets of the empty side of his bed. “Get in.”

Caspar made a sound that was somewhere between a scream and a whine.

“You came here because you’re frightened, correct?” Linhardt prompted, ignoring the way Caspar looked away from him. “I’m not staying awake for you, so you might as well get some sleep, too.”

“Oh, no, Lin. I don’t want to bother you...”

“What’s bothering me,” Linhardt sighed, heaving his body up to rest on one elbow. “Is that you’ve woken me up to ask me a ridiculous question and now refuse to let me go back to sleep with all this conversation. I know you’re afraid of the storm and neither of us are going to get any sleep if you’re awake worrying. So get in the bed.”

Caspar’s mouth fell open at Linhardt’s lengthy response and for an agonizing second, Linhardt thought he was about to argue with him again. But when lightning flashed again, illuminating the room in harsh white light, Caspar jolted into moving, scrambling over his legs with a muttered “Okay, okay!” and burying himself in the blanket.

Linhardt huffed as Caspar jostled him with his movements before he shifted into a more comfortable position and closed his eyes again, intending to fall back asleep.

That hope was quickly dashed after three consecutive cracks of thunder, each one producing a whimper from Caspar’s shaking body behind him.

The sound grated on Linhardt’s nerves. His frustration was growing with each pathetic sound and he couldn’t help but wonder if he studied thunder magic enough, maybe he would be able to put a stop to storms altogether. One thing he knew for sure, though, was that he was never going to get any sleep with a quivering mess of a best friend behind him.

Before he could think better of it, realizing the possible implications of his actions and doing his best to ignore them, he rolled over to face Caspar’s back. He rested his hand gently on his shoulder, feeling the muscles tense under his touch.

“Sorry,” came the soft apology as Caspar tried to pull his shoulder away from him. “I’m trying to stop, I swear.” 

He frowned and chose not to respond. Instead, he tightened his grip and dragged Caspar back towards him, pulling him fully into his chest. 

“L-Linhardt, what are you doing?” Caspar stammered out. He sounded surprised, but did nothing to pull himself out of the embrace. Linhardt filed that information away to analyze later, when he had more time and felt less embarrassed. 

“Go to sleep,” he shushed, curling his arm around Caspar’s middle and burying his face in the back of his neck. He wrinkled his nose as the short hair brushed his face but he was warm and comfortable, so he endured.

Caspar squirmed a bit more before finally calming down, his shaking becoming less violent the more Linhardt held him. He actually managed to be quiet for a couple minutes before speaking again.

“Hey, Linhardt? What did you mean when you said that neither of us would sleep if I was awake because I was scared?”

“Shh,” Linhardt hissed. He was glad for the fact that Caspar was facing away from him because he could feel his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “Less talking, more sleeping.”

Caspar laughed, although Linhardt wasn’t sure why because he was being completely serious, but it made him feel better anyways. “Alright, alright.”

It was much easier to fall back asleep with Caspar warm against his chest and not paralyzed by fear. He found himself thinking that this was a feeling he might be able to get used to, especially if Caspar was going to keep drawing patterns on his arm when he thought he had fallen asleep. 

He put the brakes on that train of thought immediately. It was a road he refused to go down tonight, because he would definitely get no sleep if he did that. No, the analysis of this tender moment would have to wait until he had more energy and less distractions.

He heard one more crash of thunder before falling asleep completely and he tightened his hold around his waist, even though Caspar didn’t flinch.

3\. 

“Linhardt!” 

Something heavy rested on his shoulder and shook him violently. The force of the push rattled his insides and he let out a groan, squeezing his eyes shut to try and escape the brutal assault on his shoulder.

The voice repeated his name even louder and, as Linhardt finally recognized the loud tone as Caspar’s, he let out another groan to try and give him some sort of acknowledgment. 

“Lin, are you okay?”

He sounded a little frantic, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary for Caspar. He frequently became worked up over the smallest things and in order to stop his spiralling train of thought, Linhardt had to let him know he was alright. But really, all he wanted to do was fall back asleep. Caspar’s hand was warm and comforting and he wanted to wrap himself up in the feeling. 

_”Linhardt!”_

“What?” he snapped. His eyes opened and flickered up to look into the worried face above him.

“What the heck are you doing on the floor?”

“Hmm?”

“The floor, Linhardt. You’re lying on the floor.” 

He took a moment to take in his surroundings, focus on something other than the warmth on his shoulder. The wooden floor was unforgiving beneath his body, his bones grinding under his skin every time he shifted against the grainy surface. “Oh. So I am.”

It was quiet for a minute as Caspar waited for elaboration that never came. Linhardt used the time to enjoy the moments of silence, since his head was pounding.

“Sooo... why is that?”

A curious question, really. What was he doing on the floor? He couldn’t remember what he had been doing prior to waking up. 

“I… think I might’ve fallen.”

“Fallen?” Caspar echoed. “Like, fallen as in you tripped or fallen as in you passed out?” He paused. “Wait, I don’t like either of those choices!”

Linhardt sighed and remained silent as he tried to shift himself onto his knees. Even as he moved slowly, his head grew fuzzy and he squeezed his eyes shut to keep the unexpected nausea at bay. Caspar was still talking but Linhardt had completely tuned him out, a strategy he had perfected over the years. He needed to focus if he was going to get his body under control. 

“Linhardt!”

“Caspar, could you stop talking?” he ground out. “Just for one second.”

He heard the clack of teeth, signalling that Caspar had snapped his mouth shut and he let out a breath. His arms felt shaky and weak but he managed to pull himself up into a sitting position. Caspar’s hand had shifted from his shoulder to his back, burning warmth into his spine with his touch. 

A quick glance around told him he was in the library, the musty scent of parchment and burning candles helping him get his bearings. It was soft and familiar, something that his mind yearned for as he tried to sort through his confusion.

Caspar was still quiet beside him but Linhardt could practically feel the anxious energy radiating off of him. Sighing, he turned his attention to his friend. “Alright, Caspar. You may speak now.”

“Are you okay?” was the question that immediately spilled from his lips, so close to the surface that Linhardt could tell that it was a struggle for him to remain silent.

“Yes,” Linhardt answered after taking a moment to think about it. His head was still a little fuzzy but it was nothing that a bit more sleep wouldn’t fix. A nap curled up under his blanket, on the comfortable mattress of his bed…

“How long have you been lying here for?”

Linhardt sighed. The last he remembered being awake, Claude, Lysithea, and Ignatz were studying at a table across from his own. Their absence now indicated it had been quite some time. “I’m not sure.”

At his words, Caspar’s eyebrows furrowed together in concern.

“I’m sure it wasn’t that long,” he assured, wanting to ease the wrinkles on his brow. “Nothing a nap good won’t fix.”

“Weren’t you just sleeping?” Caspar asked.

“Passing out unconscious doesn’t count as a restful sleep.”

The hand on his back tensed, fingers pressing into his skin harder as Caspar was unable to hide his emotions completely. He leaned back into the touch, letting Caspar support some of his body weight

“Do you want to head back to your room, then?” Caspar asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

He agreed easily and Caspar stood, holding out his hands for Linhardt to take. He grasped his hands with a raised eyebrow and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. He regained his balance against the sturdy arms of Caspar, thankful but also surprised at their strength. _When did he get that strong? Had he always been this tall?_

“Whoa, Lin, did you hit your head or something?” Caspar’s one hand rose up to brush at some of the loose strands of hair that had fallen out of his elastic. 

“Maybe,” he answered, letting his face tilt closer into Caspar’s touch. “Probably likely, especially if I passed out.”

Caspar frowned in response and gripped his hand tighter. “We’re going to see Professor Manuela.” 

Linhardt waved away the suggestion. “That’s unnecessary. I just need to sleep.”

“Sleeping can’t solve all your problems, Linhardt,” Caspar sighed, exasperation coating every word as he pulled Linhardt towards the door.

He wasn’t sure where the overbearing concern was coming from but he was really too tired to argue with it so he simply agreed. “If it will make you feel better.”

“It will,” Caspar insisted, keeping a steady arm around his waist as he guided the two to the infirmary.

He thought he must be concussed, because Linhardt was paying far too much attention to where Caspar was touching him. It was a foreign feeling, noticing these small details that almost nobody else would pick up on. Like how warm his body temperature was, no matter the weather. Or the way his hand clenched into a fist every fifth step he took. Or the way he stood next to Linhardt’s bed as Manuela looked him over, arms crossed and brow furrowed.

As he glanced at Caspar again, he had a sneaking suspicion that these thoughts weren’t the result of a concussion. 

4.

The loud knock was what pulled him out of his nap and he did nothing to stop the loud groan that left his throat as he dragged himself off his bed and towards his door. As it swung open, the last thing that Linhardt was expecting to see was a bloodied Caspar standing before him.

It took a moment for Linhardt to school his face back into it’s neutral expression at the sight of so much blood, and on Caspar, no less, but he managed it. And he was sure Caspar didn’t notice, since he was so busy wincing.

“What on earth happened to you?” he asked, his heart pounding in his ears as he moved aside and all but dragged Caspar into his room. He walked stiffly and Linhardt nudged him towards his desk, clearing off the surface to give Caspar a place to sit down.

“There was a slight bandit infiltration,” Caspar explained, hopping up onto the desk with another wince. “Not a big deal.”

“Bandits in the monastery?” Linhardt paused in collecting bandages and other medical supplies to look up at him in surprise. “And you… what? Took them on by yourself?”

“No!” Caspar exclaimed, as if Linhardt was the unreasonable one. ”I was with a couple other people. Felix, Raphael... Petra was there…” 

“Were there any healers present?” Linhardt asked, even though he was sure he already knew the answer. 

“Come on, Linhardt. If there were, do you think I’d walk all the way to your room for help?”

“Yes,” Linhardt answered, ignoring Caspar’s offended sound. Honestly, it was a miracle Caspar sought out a healer at all. He had an irritating habit of avoiding healers, believing himself capable of healing without assistance.

“Well, no, there were no healers around.” 

“Then, why did you not come get me?” Linhardt asked, feeling irritation start to flood him as his hands clenched around the bandages he was holding. There were few things he hated more in this world than seeing an injured Caspar, especially when he wasn’t far from the incident and had the potential to help.

“You were too far from where it happened,” Caspar replied easily, almost as if he had rehearsed his answer beforehand. “There was no time. Plus, I knew you were sleeping. Didn’t wanna wake you.”

“And yet you pound on my door after you’ve been injured and wake me up anyways,” Linhardt snapped as he wet a cloth and began cleaning up the blood. He watched in thinly veiled amusement as Caspar’s face turned a remarkable shade of bright red that had nothing to do with the blood pouring from his nose.

The injuries were rather superficial; the blood made everything look a lot worse than it actually was, which he was thankful for. He wasn’t sure his heart could take it if Caspar had gotten himself seriously hurt, especially somewhere they were supposed to be safe. The thought of bandits inside such a place like the monastery was disturbing, to say the least. _When Seteth finds out, he’s going to lose is mind._

He brushed his hands over Caspar’s face, healing the cuts and bruises with glowing white magic. It was difficult to concentrate, since Caspar had decided it was appropriate to stare directly at him. Usually, if Linhardt caught him staring, he would avert his eyes as soon as he met his gaze, but not this time. It made him feel strangely vulnerable, as though he had some sort of injury that couldn't be seen or healed with simple white magic. 

Linhardt had poured over his emotions for weeks, revisiting every brush against Caspar’s skin or how a smile would make his insides feel as though they were on fire. Words were horribly underwhelming, incapable of describing how Caspar made him feel, despite how desperately he tried to record them in his notes.

“Next time,” Linhardt mumbled, mostly to do something to break the intense eye contact. “Please don’t let something as simple as not wanting to wake me out of concern for my wellbeing stop you from seeking my assistance.”

“But you don’t like fighting,” Caspar protested with a frown.

Linhardt rolled his eyes but there was that warm feeling blooming inside him at the words. “I wouldn’t be there to fight. I would be there to heal you.”

“Hey!” Caspar was indignant, a pout pushing his lips forward. “And other people!”

Linhardt nodded. “Yes, but mostly you.” 

“You’re so mean,” Caspar whined as Linhardt finished up his healing. He looked much better without all the blood and now that he was looking at him, clean and healed, Linhardt was able to relax the tension in his shoulders.

“Thanks for patching me up, Lin!” Caspar exclaimed, his legs swinging slightly. He was still short enough that he was unable to reach the floor when sitting on the desktop. Linhardt bit his lip. _Cute._ “Are you heading back to sleep?”

He desperately wanted to. He used more magic than he intended, probably more than he should, as he let his concern get the best of him. But the image of a bloodied Caspar was swimming in his mind and he knew that if he fell asleep so soon after seeing something like that, he would end up having nightmares about it.

“No,” Linhardt answered, but before he could explain that he might just head up to the library, Caspar interrupted.

“Great! I’m feelin’ kinda hungry! D’you wanna head over to the dining hall with me?”

Linhardt blinked. “You’re hungry?”

“Well, yeah! Did you see how many injuries I got?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Raphael says I gotta keep eating if I wanna get stronger!” Caspar hopped off the desk, stretching his arms out and grinning when he felt no pain. “Hey, you did a good job!”

Linhardt glared at him. “Insulting my healing ability is an effective way to ensure I won’t be accompanying you to the dining hall.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Caspar laughed as he walked to the door and pushed it open. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No, I suppose you didn’t.”

“Great, so you’ll come with me then?”

Linhardt frowned as he followed Caspar out of his room. “I was thinking I might head up to the library…”

“Okay, I’ll come with you!” Caspar announced as he shifted direction easily, quickly catching up to Linhardt, who had already stepped several paces ahead.

“I thought you were hungry?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“I mean, I’m not starving or anything. It can wait.”

Linhardt paused in the doorway of the staircase and turned around to look at his friend. He was fidgeting and wouldn’t quite look at him, his eyes darting around their surroundings. He was standing rather close to him too, so much so that he could easily brush against his hand if he wished.

“Caspar,” he started slowly, continuously analyzing his demeanour. “Are you worried about me?”

“What?” Caspar exclaimed, eyes wide far too wide to be convincing. “No! I just… Well, I… Argh!” He threw his hands up and waved them around. 

“Are you?” Linhardt pressed, stifling a smile that threatened to break out on his face.

“I… okay, maybe.” Caspar pouted at being found out. He kicked at a pebble next to his boot. “Is that really such a bad thing?”

Sometimes, Linhardt was glad that Caspar’s emotions were so transparent.The inability to hide his true feelings made it easy to be around him. He didn’t exhaust him like other people did, since he didn’t have to waste time figuring him out. Everything was laid out in front of him and, lately, Caspar’s apparent care for Linhardt, specifically, was much more enjoyable than he ever expected.

Linhardt reached over to grab his hand, ignoring the way Caspar’s jaw fell open and how sweaty his hand was.

“No, I suppose that wouldn’t be such a bad thing at all.”

5.

_From the moment he felt the first drop on his face, Linhardt knew it wasn’t rain._

_The liquid was far too thick and warm to be water of any kind and he wiped his crimson fingertips on the side of his shirt, trying to erase the gruesome evidence._

_The swirling purple clouds blew across the darkened sky and the heavens seemed to open up, as if Sothis herself had been wounded and was making it a concern for those that walked the ground below her. _

_Linhardt wiped blood out of his eyes and he glanced down to see his shoes covered with it, as if he were standing in some sort of sick puddle. He took a step to try and escape from it, but everywhere he stepped, there was just more blood. The field was drowning in it._

_Clamping down quickly on his panic, he forced himself to search for his injured comrades, hoping that keeping his mind occupied would stop his rising panic._

_Glancing to his left, he noticed the figure of Caspar standing a ways down the field. His axe was nowhere in sight and the blood had reached his knees._

_Linhardt forced himself to move, pushing his legs forward as he waded through the pool to try and reach him. He passed the figures of his other allies as he waded through: Ferdinand, Annette, Lysithea. They were all just standing there, not making a sound, as he moved past, allowing the rising volume of blood to consume them._

_He shook his head and forced himself to move faster, clawing his way through the field. There were no other healers present; saving everyone rested on him and he knew there was no way he could save them all. But if he could just reach Caspar, if he could save Caspar, then maybe everything would be okay. _

_The blood rose quickly, now reaching just below his chin as he approached his friend, who was suffocating as the liquid had covered his mouth. He was trying to speak to him but all Linhardt could hear was a disgusting gurgle as he opened his mouth and filled his lungs._

_No matter how hard he pushed himself, he always seemed to be just an arm's length away from Caspar. He couldn’t reach him, despite how desperately he tried. There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t save him. Not from this._

_He opened his mouth with an instinct to call out Caspar’s name but was accosted by the feeling of blood pouring into his own mouth, stifling his replies as he began drowning along with the rest of them. _

_Caspar, who had been previously still, moved in front of him. Linhardt could feel the waves push against his body, softly jostling him in a way that might be considered soothing if only he could breathe._

_A hand roughly grabbed his arm and he felt himself being pulled up, up…_

_Linhardt, wake up!_

He jerked awake violently, heaving himself into a sitting position and retching. When he was confident he wasn’t about to lose the contents of his stomach, he forced himself to focus on his surroundings. His mattress was soft under his body and the comforting, familiar warmth of the hand on his arm could only belong to one person in the whole world. 

He kept his eyes down, avoided what he knew to be Caspar’s concerned gaze in favour of staring at his hands. They were shaking terribly, pale fingers wavering as he pushed his hair out of his face. 

He didn’t have nightmares often. In fact, he didn’t even have pleasant dreams often. Sleep was an escape from the images and objects of the world and when he closed his eyes, he usually fell easily into the peaceful darkness. Perhaps all the violence was starting to affect him. 

“Linhardt?” If Caspar was making an effort to hide his panic, he was doing a very poor job of it. “Linhardt, are you okay?”

“Fine,” he panted, suddenly aware that he was out of breath. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

“Oh, don’t I? What an astute observation, Caspar.”

The words were biting and Linhardt regretted them as soon as they left his mouth. He turned towards him to apologize and came face to face with a sympathetic smile and kind, wide eyes.

“It’s okay,” Caspar said before he was able to get any of the words out. “But maybe you’re not so fine?”

“Maybe not…”

Caspar sighed before sliding his arm up around Linhardt’s shoulders and pulled him closer. “D’you wanna talk about it?”

“Not in the slightest.” He had no desire to revisit the images more than he already had. The thought of explaining it out loud had his heart rate spiking. 

Caspar’s posture slumped beside him and he felt a compulsive need to explain further. 

“It’s not you,” he assured, wrapping his fingers around Caspar’s wrist. “It’s just I… I don’t think I can physically get the words out. There was just -- there was blood everywhere and I--”

He cut himself off with a gag, one hand flying up to cover his mouth, just in case.

“Hey, it’s okay!” Caspar was frantic and he ducked his head to be in Linhardt’s field of vision, his hand rubbing soothing circles onto his back. “I won’t push you to talk or anything, I get it.”

Linhardt nodded with a sigh before leaning heavily against Caspar’s shoulder.

“What can I do?” His voice was determined and Linhardt could almost feel him gearing himself up, as if this was something he could physically fight away.

“Nothing,” he answered softly but that was a lie. 

What could Caspar do? He could hold him, reassure him that he was okay and alive -- that they _both_ were okay and alive. He could continue to rub at his back and offer a shoulder and warmth for Linhardt to lean into. All the things he needed but was too afraid to ask for.

Caspar made an offended noise but Linhardt just shrugged, not ready to divulge any of his thoughts.

“I’ll do anything, Lin. Whatever you want,” Caspar mumbled, continuing his mission to try and make him feel better. “Whatever will help.”

“Sleep.”

“You want to go back to sleep?” Caspar asked and Linhardt stifled a smile at how confused he sounded. “Already? Aren’t you afraid of having another nightmare?”

“No,” Linhardt lied as he shifted out from the safety of Caspar’s arm to lay back on the pillow. He buried his face into the fabric, trying to hide himself away and control this craving for physical affection.

“Why not?” Caspar asked as he followed Linhardt to the mattress. He reached his arm over to tug Linhardt out of the safety of his pillow and into the safety of his arms instead. “You trust me to keep your nightmares away?”

“Don’t be so childish, Caspar,” Linhardt admonished even as he snuggled into the hard muscle beneath his cheek, finding comfort in the way he could hear the beating of Caspar’s heart beneath his ear. “You can’t fight your way through everything.”

Caspar laughed, his chest shaking and jostling Linhardt slightly. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I’ll let you go back to sleep.”

“Thank you,” Linhardt whispered, curling his fist into the fabric of Caspar’s shirt and burying himself in the warmth he provided.

“Don’t worry,” Caspar mumbled from above him, tightening his arm around Linhardt’s waist as he pulled him closer and pressed his lips to the crown of his head. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Images from his dream swam in front of his closed eyes as Linhardt simply nodded against him. _Yes. That is what I’m afraid of._

+1

Caspar’s grip loosened on his axe and he dropped it casually by his feet. They hadn’t come across any enemy soldiers for a few minutes now, and he was pretty confident in saying that the fight was over.

He rotated his shoulder, trying to work out a muscle ache as he glanced around until his eyes locked on a familiar green figure strolling towards him. His body simultaneously slumped in relief and perked up in excitement at seeing Linhardt -- Caspar wasn’t even sure how that was possible.

“Where have you injured yourself this time?” Linhardt asked in the bored way he always did but at this point, Caspar was well versed in picking out the concern lurking beneath the words. 

“Nowhere!” he responded cheerfully. As usual, Linhardt ignored his words and reached out to check for himself.

“Did you hurt your shoulder?” Linhardt asked as his hand lit up with healing magic, ghosting over his armour and reaching the limb beneath.

“It’s barely injured,” Caspar argued as he swatted at Linhardt’s hand, only to be disappointed once the comforting healing magic left his body. “I don’t need you to heal a minor bruise!”

“Hmm.” Linhardt raised an eyebrow at him before he moved to stand at his side and rested his head onto his other shoulder, not willing to irritate a potential injury.

Caspar sighed, knowing Linhardt’s plan was to catch a quick nap before they headed back to the monastery. Recently, his new favourite napping place was Caspar’s shoulder. Which was all fine and great, and Caspar didn’t want to complain in fear that he would stop, but now he had to stand really still so he didn’t disturb him. And that was pretty hard for him to do at the best of times, let alone when he had leftover adrenaline from the battle.

It was that same adrenaline that seemed to be making him paranoid, and he could swear that he felt someone watching him. He glanced over to see some nameless soldier staring at him and Linhardt.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” Caspar snapped defensively, a little unnerved by the scrutiny and fighting the desire to wrap a protective arm around Linhardt’s waist. “Got some sort of problem?”

The soldier slowly shook his head before turning and walking away, probably to go find his captain.

“Are you getting into a fight?” Linhardt mumbled into his ear.

“No,” Caspar protested, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just scarin’ off some wimpy soldier from staring at us.”

“Why would he be staring at us? We’re extraordinarily uninteresting.” 

“Well, that might be a little harsh,” Caspar laughed. He couldn’t explain the uneasy feeling that settled in his stomach. There was nothing hostile about the action but it rubbed him the wrong way.

Linhardt hummed in acknowledgment and Caspar went back to people watching.

Everybody seemed to be arguing with each other, which wasn’t uncommon after a battle. Emotions were running high and it always took a while to relax those battle instincts. Ferdinand was bickering with Dorothea while Bernadetta cowered behind her skirt, and Lysithea was yelling at Rapheal as he held one of her tomes over his head. 

But Caspar’s favourite argument to listen to was that of Sylvain and Felix, who were always arguing about one thing or another. Currently, he gathered Felix was mad at Sylvain for taking a blow meant for him. Typical -- that happened a lot.

The conversation was amusing until Felix stiffened, his eyes shifting around.

“Shut up for a second,” he snapped, waving his arm to brush Sylvain away from him, as his hand still gripped the handle of his sword. “I hear something.”

It was more likely that Felix felt something, since it was impossible to hear anything over all the different conversations that were going on around them. But Caspar had never known Felix’s instincts to be wrong.

“Felix?” Caspar asked as he stepped out from under Linhardt’s head, who sighed in exasperation. He glanced back to see Linhardt had continued his nap standing up, an ability that never failed to impress Caspar. 

Felix shushed him too as he took a couple steps towards him.The longer he stayed silent, the more tense Caspar became. He glanced at Sylvain, who had rested a hand on his hip and cocked an eyebrow, looking just as confused as he felt. 

“Felix, I really don’t think --”

Sylvain was cut off by an arrow whizzing past his face, missing him by less than an inch. Another headed towards him but Felix’s blade was faster, slicing the arrow down before it could even make contact with his chestplate.

Sylvain shouted out a warning as Felix turned and sprinted into the trees where the arrows came from. Caspar was about to do the same, turning around so that he could watch the trees on the other side of them, but he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight before him.

“Linhardt?” Caspar managed to choke out, his eyes fixed on the arrow embedded in his stomach. As he stared, it felt like the whole world had stopped. He was suspended in a moment of time, unable to bring himself to move towards what he desperately hoped was just his imagination.

_No. This could not be happening, this could not be happening._

“Caspar.” Linhardt whispered so quietly that he barely even heard it, only saw the movement of his lips that resembled his name. He stumbled forward and it forced Caspar to finally move. He darted forward to reach him, extending his arms for Linhardt to collapse into while doing his best to avoid touching the arrow. 

“No. No, no, Linhardt, no,” Caspar repeated as he gently lowered his friend to the ground. 

He winced as he landed on the ground, despite Caspar making a conscious effort to be as gentle as he could. His hand reached up to gently touch at the wound in his stomach, his fingers coming away red and slick with his own blood.

“Oh…” Linhardt hummed as he stared at his fingers. His movements were quickly becoming slower and sluggish in a twisted imitation of his usual fatigue. Linhardt didn’t do well with blood at the best of times. Seeing his own must be terrifying. Caspar felt something inside him twist unpleasantly at the thought.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Caspar demanded, covering Linhardt's hand with his own in an attempt to hide the blood. “You gotta be okay, Linhardt, come on. T-tell me what I need to do and I can do it until we get you to a healer.”

“N-nothing,” Linhardt whispered so quietly that Caspar had to lean in close to hear him. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“What the hell do you mean?” Caspar responded hotly, fear flooding him as overwhelming helplessness settled deep in his gut. “There’s gotta be something I can do!”

Linhardt’s breathing was uncomfortably shallow, as though every breath was a struggle. Caspar didn’t know enough about the body and healing so he couldn’t tell what kind of damage had been done, but, as his mind so kindly pointed out to him, he did not look good. The half-lidded eyes were very concerning and he found himself desperate with the need to ensure they stay open. 

“Stay awake, Lin,” he demanded, squeezing his hand to bring attention back to him. His grip was bruising and he grimaced as he realized he was probably just hurting Linhardt even further. But if that’s what it took to keep him awake, then Caspar would do it. “You gotta keep your eyes open, alright? Promise me.”

“I know,” Linhardt breathed. His fingers twitched in his grasp and Caspar sincerely hoped he wasn’t trying to match the strength of his grip -- it was far too weak, a pathetic attempt at a reassuring squeeze. “I’m a healer. I know I have to… keep my eyes open…”

“Okay, well, I’m just reminding you.”

“‘Preciate it,” Linhardt said. “Keep talking to me. It’s h-helping.”

“It’s helping?” Caspar repeated, partly in surprise, partly because he couldn’t really hear him.

“Gives me something… focus on.”

“Oh!” That made sense. “Okay, keep talking. Keep talking and keep your eyes open. I-I can do that.”

It was then Caspar realized that he had nothing to say. Nothing was coming to mind except the desperate desire to stop Linhardt from dying. But Linhardt had told him he admired how straight forward he was, so that’s what he decided to do -- just lay his heart out there and tell Linhardt exactly what he was thinking.

“You gotta stay with me, Lin,” Caspar begged, his voice beginning to break as he lost his composure. He wanted to stay as calm as possible but could feel his emotions quickly spiraling out of control. For someone so big, Linhardt looked so _small_ in his arms. “You -- you can’t leave me here. I can’t get through this war without you. Who’s gonna heal all my embarrassing injuries and broken noses from fights?”

Linhardt jerked beneath him in what Caspar decided to assume was a laugh. He appreciated the effort even though it broke his heart. 

“You gotta keep your eyes open. Come on, you said you know that. Eyes on me, Linhardt. I swear, we’ll get you through this. You cannot die on me.”

“I won’t,“ Linhardt mumbled, squeezing his hand again. His eyelids fluttered shut for a moment and Caspar gritted his teeth. He needed to find a healer _now._

He glanced up to search around him, frantically looking for Mercedes, or Marianne, or anybody that had any magic experience that would be able to offer help. Nobody seemed to be around, except Felix and Sylvain, who were still battling with people in the woods. 

“I promise, Lin. Soon I’ll find you a healer and then--”

His words tapered off and cold fear rushed through him as he glanced down in his arms, horrified to see that Linhardt’s eyes had slipped closed. It was a sight he was used to, one that usually brought him a comforting sense of peace. The sight was almost hypnotizing, had some weird, unexplainable force that kept Caspar by his side to watch over him in the most vulnerable state. He never thought he would be so terrified to see Linhardt asleep.

“Hey,” he called, doing his best to reign in his panic. It wasn’t going to help matters now, he had to be calm. He had to be calm, or Linhardt was going to die. “Remember what we said? Eyes open, Lin.”

When he got no response, the panic easily broke past his flimsy barriers, completely banishing any positive or reassuring thoughts he previously had.

“Linhardt?” He wanted to shake him, hit him, do something that would open his eyes. He loathed himself for the fact that the only solution he could think of was violent but desperation paled in comparison to how he was feeling.

“Linhardt, _please!”_ he yelled, the distressed edge of his voice cutting into his own heart. “You have to wake up! Now is the one and only time I’ll keep you up, I swear. Please!”

Getting no response was disheartening and his eyes were welling up fast with tears as he quickly became hopeless. He was going to lose him and it was going to be his fault.

“You can’t die, Linhardt,” he whispered, clutching his hand in the tightest grip he could manage, possibly breaking his hand in the process but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. “You said you wouldn’t, you p-promised. You can’t…”

He broke off with a quiet sob and, as he continued to get no response, Caspar felt as though he had died, too.

\----

He wasn’t a light sleeper but the second Linhardt shifted on his bed, Caspar was immediately awake.

He sat up so quickly his stiff back cracked loudly but the ache it left behind was the furthest thing from his mind. He held his breath as he watched closely, waiting for any other sign of life Linhardt was willing to offer him. 

The pause between movements was so long that Caspar was worried that it had just been wishful thinking. He was considering giving up and falling back asleep when Linhardt moved again, and Caspar knew he wasn’t imagining things.

He held his breath in anticipation as Linhardt’s eyes crinkled, then slowly opened, eyelids peeling back to reveal tired looking eyes that found him immediately. 

Relief coursed through him so powerfully that Caspar knew if he had been standing, he would have collapsed immediately at seeing Linhardt alive and awake. He reached forward and seized one of Linhardt’s cold hands, praying he didn’t hurt him with his enthusiasm as he pulled it towards himself and rested his lips against it.

Linhardt was watching him carefully through heavily lidded eyes, blinking slowly as it took him a while to fully wake up. Caspar always thought there was something cute about Linhardt’s face when he first woke up, but there was something off about this time.

“You fell asleep,” he accused, voice wavering with all the emotion that he’d had to bottle up for as long as Linhardt had been asleep. 

“I tend to do that,” Linhardt replied quietly, his eyes blinking as they opened wider and he raised an eyebrow. 

“This is different and you know it.” Caspar sniffed noisily. When had he even started crying? “You promised you wouldn’t! You promised you’d keep your eyes open! You said you knew that’s what you had to do and then you--”

“Caspar.” Linhardt’s voice was quiet next to his but it shut him up immediately. “I’m sorry.”

The words only made his tears fall faster as the fight drained out of him. “I’m sorry, too. I said I wouldn’t let anything happen to you and--”

“This isn’t your fault,” Linhardt insisted. “You know how hard it is for me to forego falling asleep.”

“Don’t make jokes about it,” Caspar snapped. “I should’ve known something was wrong. I should’ve listened to Felix earlier.”

“Felix’s instincts go off when one of the cats walk into the room,” Linhardt scoffed. “So I forgive you for not drawing your weapon because he heard the leaves rustle.”

“I promised I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” Caspar said, ignoring Linhardt’s slight against Felix. “And I failed.”

“Caspar, even you aren’t fast enough to stop _an arrow_.”

“I should be, though!” He was growing more frustrated by the second, his fear warping into anger very quickly. He was a great fighter -- one of the best in this army -- and he couldn’t stop one measly arrow?

Linhardt whispered something that sounded suspiciously like his name but he couldn't hear it over the rushing blood in his ears. He hurriedly bent forward, the soft tone reminding him too much of Linhardt’s weak voice on the battlefield, but was met with something much better  
than words.

Linhardt’s hand fell heavily behind his neck, grip weak with fatigue that had Caspar frowning, although that was quickly covered by Linhardt’s mouth as he slotted their lips together.

His mouth was unfairly soft for someone who had been lying unconscious for hours. His lips weren’t moving all too much but it wasn’t bothering Caspar in the slightest. He was too distracted by all the different sensations: the sweet taste of lips, the cool fingers sinking into the hair at the back of his neck, the gentle breaths fanning over his face.

He felt like he had died and met the goddess, the anger fizzling out in the wake of his complete surprise. His eyes widened so much that more tears he had been trying to hold back came streaming down his face, effectively ruining one of the best moments of his life.

Linhardt pulled away from him quickly, reaching a hand up to clumsily wipe at the tears. “What on earth are you crying for?” he asked. “Was the kiss that bad? I might not have the most experience but I didn’t think that would matter all that much to you.”

“No!” Caspar yelled in his face, reaching his own hand up to rest on Linhardt’s to keep it on his cheek. The touch was comforting but it also helped to hide a little bit of his embarrassment. “I’m just so happy you’re okay.”

His words blessed him with a rare smile from Linhardt, one that Caspar was certain had the capability to piece his shattered heart back together. 

“Thank you for being here when I woke up.”

“Always,” Caspar promised fervently before leaning in to kiss him again. “I’ll be here every time.”

Kissing Linhardt had already become his favourite thing to do. It felt both excitedly new and achingly familiar, like it was something they should have been doing a long time ago. They had been walking the thin line between close friends and something more for years, and all Caspar could think about was how much time they had wasted when they could have been doing this instead.

He really had to focus on controlling himself and not getting too enthusiastic. Linhardt was still injured and Sothis strike him down if he did anything to hurt Linhardt because he couldn't keep his enthusiasm in check. 

“Good,” Linhardt breathed, the ghost of a smile still lingering on his face. It was baffling how content he looked for someone who just suffered a life threatening injury. Speaking of which…

“I’m gonna go get Marianne,” Caspar announced as he stood up from the bed, dropping a quick kiss onto Linhardt’s forehead. 

“Stop,” Linhardt groaned, reaching a hand to swat lazily at Caspar’s face. “Stop kissing me.”

“Hell no,” Caspar grinned. It was a pointless request -- there was no force on this earth that could stop him from kissing Linhardt now that he knew it was an option. “You started it.”

“Don’t make me regret it,” Linhardt warned as he batted at him again. This time though, he winced, as his movement shook his body too much and irritated his injury. 

Caspar’s joy drained out of him as worry forced its way through him instead. “Yeah, I’m definitely getting Marianne,” he repeated, backing away from Linhardt’s bed. “Don’t fall asleep,” he added, knowing that the one thing Linhardt probably wanted to do was take a nap. “I’m serious, you gotta stay awake so you can get checked out.”

Linhardt’s eyes glinted with something mischievous. “I promise I’ll stay awake.” 

“I’m holding you to that.” Caspar pointed a finger at him. “You better keep that promise this time.”

“It was hardly my fault that I--”

“You better keep it!”

Linhardt huffed. “Fine.” Caspar grinned in triumph. “As long as you come back… and stay with me.”

He said the last part quietly, as if he didn’t want Caspar to hear it. Unfortunately for him, Caspar was hanging on his every word so he didn't miss anything.

“I’ll come back,” he assured. “And I’ll be here when you wake up. Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Idk I just think they're cute and I like sleepy and cuddly awkward boys
> 
> Also sorry I love Felix so he's mentioned here a lot lol
> 
> If anybody reads this, thank u bc it's purely just self-indulgent and not my best work lol
> 
> <3


End file.
